The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) by Bella Forrest (ebook reader for laptop TXT) 📗

behind for any amount of time. I was entrusting their well-being to others—something I wasn’t remotely comfortable with. My imagination kept running amok, visualizing worst-case scenarios that could take place in my absence.

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to push my worries aside and remind myself that what I was doing, I was doing for Viggo. I had waited too long for this mission, and I couldn’t falter now. Not with his life on the line.

Desmond had located a warehouse in Patrus that had exactly the type of laser we were looking for, and if we did things right, Patrus wouldn’t even know it was missing. So, I was going into Patrus, where I was wanted as a terrorist. I was just glad I wasn’t going alone.

Desmond had made good on her promise. For two weeks, I had trained side by side with a small team of Liberators. Owen was serving as the de facto leader of our group. When he had grabbed me in The Green, I had thought him some man-snake creature, but in reality, I had been reacting to the suit he wore. A suit that allowed him to move undetected. It was one of the most advanced forms of camouflage I had ever seen—and they had trained me to use one.

Owen was clearly Desmond’s second-in-command, which was interesting, due to his Matrian status and his young age—he was barely older than me. It had taken me a while, but I’d come to realize that I actually liked Owen—he could be annoying at times, too jovial, but he had a good sense of leadership.

Besides Owen and myself, there were three others joining us.

Amber—who was a bit younger than me, with curly orange-red hair that she cut artfully by shaving the sides of her head while keeping a thick curly mop on top. She was outgoing and upbeat, but I had learned that she had originally escaped from Patrus, where her father had ‘sold’ her to a wealthy man to pay off his debts.

Then there was Solomon. When I had first met him, he had been incredibly intimidating—taller and broader than Viggo, roped with muscles that seemed ready to burst. Everything about him seemed dark, from the duskiness of his skin and the deep inky black of his hair and beard, to his intense black eyes. He gave off a dangerous vibe and I had kept my distance until I had heard him laugh— a rich, joyful sound—after which I’d realized he was a kind and considerate individual. He had gone out of his way to bring Tim little gifts like softer clothes that wouldn’t irritate his skin, and pilfered cookies his mother Meera (who was a cook for the Liberators) had made. Solomon’s own little brother was a failed test subject and a captive of the facility.

Lastly, there was Quinn, whom I knew little about except that he didn’t have any family among the Liberators, and was a little older than Tim. He kept mostly to himself but seemed nice enough, if not a little excitable.

Having spent the last couple of weeks going through training with the team, I felt reasonably confident that we could work together. That didn’t stop me from feeling nervous that I was leaving for an undetermined length of time though. Anything could happen while I was gone.

But Viggo’s condition was steady and sure—just like him—and I had to believe he would remain that way. I couldn’t accept anything less than success on this mission, because the thought of losing him was too painful to even contemplate. It amazed me how far we had come, given our sordid history, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.

I wouldn’t let it end.

With that thought, I stood and moved closer to him, resting a hip on the bed near his elbow.

“As far as I see it, you’ve saved my life a total of four times,” I said conversationally to him. I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I didn’t care. Talking to him made me feel better, and I liked believing that he did hear me. That somehow my voice was able to penetrate his dreamless coma, and remind him that there was someone waiting for him to come back. It was romantic drivel, but sometimes that was the best kind of drivel to hold onto.

“Once with the Porteque gang, twice with the centipedes (though I still think it counts as once) and once with the princesses. And I’ve saved your life three times. Once with the red flies and twice with the same princesses. Now, any good Matrian will tell you that being in debt to a Patrian is the worst fate imaginable, but truthfully, I don’t mind. However, given that you essentially—and stupidly, I might add—put yourself into a coma for me, you’ve set the bar way too high. Well… challenge accepted. I’m going to break into a country that restricts female movements, break into a warehouse, get what you need, and bring it back for you. And then… I’m going to kiss you right before you wake up, just so that I can tell everyone you’re my princess. Then, it’ll be your turn to top that.”

I smiled at my stupid speech, knowing that if Viggo was awake, he would offer some dry comment that would cut through it.

I was beyond anxious to have him back—I craved the strength of his arms as he held me, and the surety of his heartbeat under my ear. More than that, I craved the way he just listened. He didn’t always agree with me, but he did listen to me just as I listened to him. We were a great team, and he was a person I truly viewed as a partner.

I heard the door swing open behind me and turned toward it. Owen was standing there.

“Everyone’s getting ready in the antechamber,” he said softly, and I could tell he felt bad about intruding on my moment with Viggo.

I nodded and he